Mercedes Lackey - The Price Of Command

This one had better count—

She raised the bow, arrow pulled to her ear; saw the mage raise his hands—gesture, a throwing motion—

—felt a tingle all over her body, like the pins-and-needles of a limb waking from being benumbed—

And heard, in the back of her mind, an angry humming, as if she’d roused a hive full of enraged bees.

Need? What’s the damned thing doing this time?

She was too far away to see the mage’s face—he was really at the extreme of her best range—but he raised his hands again as she loosed her arrow, and his abrupt movement seemed to speak of anger and puzzlement.

She never even saw the arrow in flight; neither did he, or he might have been able to deflect it arcanely. But as the tingle increased, so did the humming, until it seemed to be actually in her ears. And not two lengths from him, the arrow she had loosed suddenly incandesced, and flared to an intolerable brightness as it hit him squarely in the chest, burying itself right to the feathers.

He froze for a moment in mid-gesture, then slowly toppled from his mount, which turned—of all unlikely things—into a milch-cow. An exhausted, gaunt cow, that wandered two or three steps, then fell over on its side, unable to rise again.

The humming stopped, and Kero was not about to wait around to see if her action stopped the pursuit. She turned Hellsbane in a pivot on her two rear hooves, and continued her flight, giving the mare her head until the war-steed caught up with the rest of the troops. She didn’t look back. If there’s anything more back there, I don’t want to know about it.

Hellsbane was no longer running easily; sweat foamed on her neck, and Kero felt her sides heave under her legs. Finally the laboring of their horses forced them to slow—and this time, when they slowed to a walk and looked back, there was no one in sight. The horses drooped, gasping great gulps of air, coats sodden with sweat. She felt guilty for having had to push them so much.

And she was profoundly grateful that she wasn’t going to have to push them any more. It looked as if Ancar didn’t have any more mages to spare.

Gods be praised. I don’t think I’ll get to pull that off a second time. They weren’t expecting Need—now they’ll be doubly careful. And damned if I know what it was she did to my arrow. She’s never done anything like that before.

Then again, we’ve never fought in service of a female monarch against a male enemy before, an enemy who wants the monarch’s hide for a rug, and that’s just for a beginning.

The Herald gave her a peculiar look when she took Hellsbane in beside him, but he didn’t say anything. She wondered how much of the exchange with the mage he had seen, then decided that it really didn’t matter. “I don’t see any reason to alter the plan yet,” she told him. “Tell Selenay to bring up her light cavalry behind us—I don’t think we’ll be seeing any more action today, but I didn’t think they’d follow us over that first ridge, either. We need a rear guard, at least for the moment.”

He nodded, and went off into his little trance, and his Companion gave her one of those blue-eyed stares that Eldan’s Companion Ratha had sometimes fixed her with. She nudged the mare with her heel, and moved Hellsbane ahead of them, suddenly uneasy with the penetrating intelligence behind those eyes. She had the feeling that even if the Herald had missed the mage’s attack and defeat, his Companion hadn’t.

He doesn’t know what to make of me, either. He’s giving me one of those looks, like he had thought I was just a grunt-fighter, and now he’s not so sure.

It was a most unnerving feeling, and she began to have an idea how Quenten and the others had felt, before they’d quit Valdemar and headed home.

It felt as if she was being weighed and tested against some unknown standard. And what was more, she didn’t like it.

Finally she couldn’t take any more of it. She dropped Hellsbane back, and deliberately made eye contact with the Companion. His Herald was still off in the clouds somewhere, communing with his brethren, which left the field safe for what she intended to do—

Which was to drop shields, and think directly at the creature, :Look, I don’t tell you how to do your job. I’m doing what I pledged Selenay I’d do, and what’s more, I’m doing a damned good piece of work so far. You keep your prejudices to yourself and stay the hell out of my way and my head so I can keep doing it!:

The Companion started and jerked his head up, his eyes wide, as if she’d stung him with a pebble in the hindquarters. She slammed her shields shut again, and sent Hellsbane into a tired canter that took her to the front of the troop.

And when next she looked back, the Companion met her gaze with a wary respect—and nothing more.

She couldn’t help herself; she wore a smug little smile all the way back to the camp. “Don’t make judgment calls; you might find yourself on the other end of one.” That’s another one of Tarma’s sayings. And right now, I’m as guilty of it as that Companion is.

But damn if that didn’t feel good.

Camp was a cold camp; no fires, and trail rations. Tents stayed packed up; until they figured out the pattern Ancar’s troops had, Kero wasn’t going to give him any vulnerable points to hit—like a camp. Even with experienced fighters like hers, “camp” meant “safe” in the back of their minds, and right now she didn’t want anyone thinking “safe.”

They’d bivouacked in a grove of hezelnut bushes, tucking bedrolls out of sight under the bushes themselves, helping out nature’s own camouflage with artfully placed branches. From a distance, no one would ever guess there was an entire Company of fighters and their horses in here; it looked like any deserted orchard. What with the three rings of perimeter guards, no one would get close enough to find out any differently.

And that tentlessness included Kero. It was good for morale—and it made her less of a target. She did have one of the better bushes, a clump of them, actually, with thick, drooping branches, but room on the inside for three or four; and she had it alone—but there were a few advantages to being Captain.

The Herald vanished after they’d tucked themselves up, established perimeters and set watches, and sent the specialists off to make Ancar’s life interesting. She settled down on her bedroll with a piece of jerky in one hand and a tiny, shielded dark-lantern focused on the detailed map spread over her knees. At some point during her study her orderly brought her a battered tin cup full of water, and said—rather too calmly—that the Herald who’d been with her this morning was being replaced.

She looked up, sharply, and saw the corners of his mouth twitching. “Ah,” she said, and left it at that.

Made himself unwelcome, did he? Maybe I did a little judging, but it sounds like he did a lot more.

She fell asleep with a clear conscience, and a resolve not to let the replacement get on her officers’ nerves as the first Herald had.

In the morning, as soon as she’d gotten the reports from her scouts, she gathered her officers together inside the heart of the grove, to lay out her next plan of action. While she gave each Lieutenant his orders, she caught sight of something white moving up, just out of the corner of her eye.

So our first liaison couldn’t handle the job. A little late, my friend, she thought to herself, and I hope you’re a bit more flexible than your predecessor. But she otherwise ignored him until she’d finished briefing her officers. Only then did she turn to see who—or what—Selenay had sent to her this time.

And felt as if someone had just poleaxed her.

“Oh,” she said, faintly.